A Good Man
by PrincessTverski
Summary: Late one evening in Skyhold, Commander Cullen has a personal concern he needs the Herald of Andraste to attend to. CullenxF!Trevelyan. Fluff.


**Just some fluffy CullenXF!Trevelyan for your amusement. I loved the first kiss scene in the game, but this idea has been bouncing around in my mind. Hope you like it! **

**Minor spoilers for Cullen's personal and romance arcs, also major spoilers for the beginning of the main quest. **

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><p>Elena Trevelyan stooped over Skyhold's war table, pouring over the web of alliances, resources, and tasks yet to be accomplished. A single candle burned low at her wrist. It was so late it was almost early, but she didn't yet feel as if she had done enough to justify going to bed. There was always one more task to accomplish.<p>

"Inquisitor, might I have a word?" The clipped, professional tone brought her out of her thoughts.

She looked up from the war table to find Commander Cullen standing across from her, left hand resting on the pommel of his sword as always. She was surprised to find him in this part of the castle so late at night; the war council had concluded hours ago, at any rate. Warmth spread through her chest as she looked at him; she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit she found him attractive. Tall with board shoulders, he was built to wear armor. Tonight his usually well kept blond curls were astir, and Elena suspected he had been running his hands through them nervously again. It was his eyes, however, that made her insides feel wobbly when she looked at him. Warm, more amber than brown, like sunlight filtering through whiskey.

She mentally shook her head to clear her thoughts. Unfortunately for her Cullen had so far remained rather oblivious to her attempts at flirting. Either way, he was a pleasant distraction tonight, at any rate—her thoughts had been running in circles for the last two hours at least.

"Commander, what can I do for you?" she smiled and straightened up.

"Walk with me," he turned towards the doors as he spoke, but waited for her to come to his side.

Elena knew he meant it as a question, though it was phrased as an order. Always the general it seemed. Shaking her head for real this time at his formality, she linked her arm with his as they set out down the still un-repaired corridor. Cullen was silent as they made their way through Skyhold—an equally quite setting given the hour. She didn't mind; in her experience—and it was extensive: half her cousins were Templars— Templars were a taciturn sort. Commander Cullen certainly lived up to the expectation.

The cold mountain air stab out at them through the darkness as they made their way across the ramparts. Though Cullen radiated heat, she was not unhappy to reach his tower. Once they entered his office along the outer wall of the keep, she dropped his arm and watched silently as he paced behind the desk, hands clasped behind his back.

"So…" she prompted gently, after a long moment of continued silence and nervous pacing.

"So…yes," he turned to face her, his brow creased. "Inquisitor it has come to my attention that a new song is spreading among the refugees likening you to Andraste."

Elena raised an eyebrow. Was that all? There were new songs about the Inquisition every day. He could have easily brought his concerns up at the war council earlier. Why seek her out in the middle of the night? Surely their must be more to this.

"I'll admit, I'm rather uncomfortable with the comparison, but…" she trailed off, not knowing what to say; clearly this was upsetting him.

"It also likens members of the inner circle to Andraste's own people." He paused and she wondered why he was having such troubles broaching his concerns. "For example, it calls me, as your general, the second Maferath," Cullen sighed, rubbing his forehead with a calloused hand.

"Oh," she paused. "Well, that is problematic, I suppose."

Maferath. Andraste's mortal husband. And her ultimate betrayer. She wondered which role Cullen had more issue with. Certainly whenever Josephine had suggested, at the war council, the glimmering though ultimately unwinnable prize of marriage alliances with the Herald of Andraste as a way to secure a particularly difficult ally, Commander Cullen had always bulked; the Herald of Andraste was not to be thought of in terms of an earthly woman, he would contend.

Elena walked around to the other side of the desk, so she was standing before him. Cullen was a full head and shoulders taller than her, and the low candle light shrouded half his face in shadows, bringing the scar above his lip and the one across his cheek into sharp relief. She wanted to take his hand in hers, but she wasn't sure. Her general wasn't really the tactile type. Instead she stood there, looking up into his warm brown eyes.

He sighed again, "I'm not upset by the song itself, Elena—Inquisitor. Just was it implies."

Elena wasn't sure if she had ever heard him say her name before. No, that wasn't quite true. That awful night Haven was destroyed, she had heard him, along with the others, calling for her in the darkness among the screaming blizzard winds. To hear it from his lips again made her feel a little like she was out on that mountain again—tossed about by confusion, but distantly hopeful.

She frowned. "Which implication? That…we're lovers?"

At her words, his cheeks flushed scarlet, bright enough to see even in the low light.

"No…I mean…no!" Cullen sputtered, before taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose. "That I would ever betray you…or our cause."

Elena couldn't help herself, she laughed. Cullen betray the Inquisition? Surely Cassandra declaring her undying love for a mountain goat was more likely. A hurt look flashed across his face, and she quickly stopped. Gently, she rested her hand against his cheek, her fingertips weaving into his blond locks. He closed his eyes at her touch.

"Oh, Cullen. You're an excellent general, but even more than that, you're a _good man_. I know that you would never betray me, and I'd be a fool to let some song sway my thoughts otherwise."

He opened his eyes and gave her a wry, sad smile, "sometimes I wonder if that's true, but for now, your confidence in me is enough."

It pained her to know he didn't think highly of himself; though she was sure the torment of it was a greater pain to him.

"How can you doubt it? 'I will not give less to the Inquisition that I did the Chantry.' Were those not your words?" she let her hand slide lightly down his neck, to rest on his armored chest. "You've already given so much—"

She stopped. Partially because of the slight, surprising noise he made when she touched the bare skin of his neck—somewhere between a hiss and a groan—and because she didn't want to ruin the moment by mentioning his struggles with giving up lyrium. In the silence, heat radiated between them, heat and something more potent, dizzying; she shivered.

She cleared her throat. "Anyway, if you think the song is problematic, we—I can ask Leliana to take care of it…"

Elena didn't know what more to say on the matter, but she ached to continue the moment in any way she could. Her mind raced to think of something else to say.

Sensing her apprehension, Cullen took her hand gently away from his chest and rubbed it between his own.

"We shall have to look into what can be done tomorrow-or later today, rather." Another wry smile. "But I've kept you out in this cold mountain air long enough—your fingers are like icicles."

She slipped her other hand between his and smiled, happy for the contact. His hands were large, and calloused from years of Templar training, but they were undeniably warm and she rather liked their roughness.

"I don't mind being out here," she murmured. "I like spending time with you."

"You do?" he asked, his hands stopping their soothing motion for just a moment out of surprise.

"Of course," she replied not a beat later.

Had he really not picked up on her attraction to him? After all those amorous hints, and flirty gestures? Perhaps Dorian was right; Cullen was hopeless when it came to romance.

His mouth quirked up in a smirk at that. It gave him a rakish look, especially with those perplexingly attractive scars on his face.

"I like spending time with you as well, Inquis—Elena."

As he spoke, he slowly bent his head down, bringing his face ever closer to her own. The air positively crackled around them with longing and want, and her stomach tied itself in knots.

Just when she thought she would _die_ if he didn't kiss her, there was a sharp knock at the door and a second later one of his underlings barged in. She and Cullen quickly flew apart. Heat rose to her face, and Elena turned away, busing herself suddenly with a stray lock of hair and the state of his bookshelves. The room suddenly felt twenty degrees colder.

"Report for you, Ser!" Apparently it wasn't so strange for her commander to be up at this hour.

"Not. Now." Cullen growled.

Elena glanced up sharply; she had never heard him speak with such an edge to his voice. If looks could kill, that poor scout would be halfway to the Maker's side. For his part, the scout looked properly terrified; mustering a nod, he fled the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Well…that was—" Before she could finish her thought, Cullen captured her face between the rough pads of his hands and his lips were upon hers.

She sighed and relaxed into his embrace, her hands resting against his chest once more. His lips were firm and commanding, coaxing her to move with him, to part her mouth, to let him press ever deeper. She tilted her head back warmth licking down her throat and spreading through her chest, her stomach, the apex of her thighs. Her hands fisted the fabric of his cloak as he deepened their kiss. A soft moan hung in the air, and she wasn't sure from which of them it originated.

Slowly, he pulled away. A smile played on his lips as he searched her face for a reaction.

"That was...I mean, I'm sorry if that wasn't proper-" he murmured, his smile falling slightly.

Elena smirked, still a little dazed at his daring. "I've been wanting you to do that since you pulled me out of that blizzard at Haven."

His smile returned in full at her statement, and once again, the room felt scorchingly warm..

"Then it appears I months to make up for," he returned, bending his face to meet hers once again.

Perhaps Dorian was wrong—Cullen knew something of romance after all.


End file.
